


Kinetic Sculptures

by celtic7irish



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 07:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3319844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celtic7irish/pseuds/celtic7irish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The room was like nothing Steve had ever seen before.  Everywhere he turned, there were gleaming, shiny things.  Not tools, but trinkets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kinetic Sculptures

The room was like nothing Steve had ever seen before.  Everywhere he turned, there were gleaming, shiny things.  Not tools, but trinkets.  Switches and levers moved and shifted in a steady rhythm, the clicking of the gears nearly inaudible, even to his serum-enhanced hearing.  There were metallic flowers that opened and closed, glowing in a seemingly random pattern.  There was a large device made of curved beams that circled inwards until they seemed like they’d catch on their brethren, stopping just shy of connecting before swinging outwards again, widening the circle once more.  Another device hung on the walls, its curved spines swinging out like wings before closing again, interweaving momentarily until they swung apart again.

 

Over in the corner was something made entirely of curved metal and round balls that spun and danced in a maddening rhythm.  Above Steve’s head, there was a model of something that reminded him eerily of the Chitauri leviathans, its body undulating with the rasp of metal plates and the low whine of ball bearings.  There was a train that powered itself around a simple track, and a winged man whose wings moved and shifted, looking as if he’d take to the sky at any moment.

 

There were simpler things, too, swans and bicycles and tiny balls that swung back and forth, one end hitting a row of them and sending the ball on the far end swinging up, only to drop back down and click against the row again, repeating the process in reverse.

 

It was amazing, incredible, and Steve hadn’t had any idea that such a place existed within the Avengers Tower.  He didn’t know where to look first, and his hands itched for a sketchpad and a pencil, or maybe some charcoal, something that would let him put this amazing display on paper, to test his abilities at showing motion, at portraying the sleek beauty of the objects that surrounded him.

 

He heard tentative footsteps behind him, and he glanced back over his shoulder at Bruce, who smiled at him carefully, his eyes skimming the room appreciatively, but without surprise.  So the other man had known about this, then.  “What is this?” Steve asked, his voice low, as if afraid that any loud noise might make them stop.

 

Bruce smiled.  “Kinetic sculptures,” he answered simply.  “You can look them up on the internet.  They’re Tony’s.”

 

Steve turned back around to take them in again, his hand reaching out to hover over a plant that was made entirely of spinning bronze gears.  He didn’t touch it, though, allowing his hand to drop after a moment.  “They’re beautiful,” he breathed.  Then he frowned as he realized something.  “Why does he keep them hidden?”

 

His voice sounded utterly miserable, but he couldn’t help it.  Things this beautiful should be displayed for the world to see, not hidden away in some random room in an abandoned hallway.  Steve had only found this place because he was looking for somewhere quiet to hide away in for a while.  It wasn’t that he didn’t like the company of the others, but sometimes the future just overwhelmed him, the clashing personalities of the team catching him off-guard and unprepared, and he needed a quiet place to restore some of his composure.  The Tower was full of hidden nooks and crannies, and Steve had found some interesting rooms – the one dedicated entirely to Captain America, courtesy of Howard Stark, had been a bit of a surprise – but nothing like this one.

 

“They’re something that he enjoys doing in his spare time,” Bruce murmured.  “He leaves them here for me. They’re calming,” he admitted.  Steve glanced at him sharply, suddenly realizing that Bruce couldn’t have found him unless he’d been following him, or was coming here for his own reasons.  Bruce caught his look and offered him a small smile.  “I’m fine, Steve,” he reassured him.  “I just needed a little break, is all, and Tony indicated that he added something new, so I wanted to see.”

 

Steve stood back, allowing Bruce to slip past him.  The scientist paced the shelves, his eyes skimming readily over the wonders they held, until he stopped at the far left corner from the door.  “Oh,” he breathed, and Steve moved forward tentatively, trusting Bruce to let him know if he needed him to back off.

 

The central piece was just a ring of metal.  Spreading out in even lengths from the center were spines that formed an ‘S’ shape, with flattened discs that had been slightly curved.  Each arm held about nine of the discs on either end, all slightly connected.  Bruce reached down and behind the sculpture and fiddled with something.  All of a sudden, the device came to life, the arms swinging through the central core.  While one half spread outwards, the other formed a half circle, the tips nearly touching each other before they swung through the center hoop and spread out, forcing the other half to close in.  Overall, it gave the appearance of undulating tentacles, and it was _amazing_.  Steve’s breath caught in his throat, his gaze hypnotized by the repetitive motion.  “What is it?” he managed.

 

Bruce smiled.  “Do you remember that giant octopus thing that Doom sent?” he asked.  Steve nodded; it was pretty hard to forget a ten-story tall robotic octopus with twelve legs.  Hulk had been the one to bring the creature down, one great green fist punching through the metal plating just below its bulbous head and tearing out wires and gears, resulting in the octopus collapsing on top of the other Avengers.  Hulk had needed to dig them out after that, with the help of Iron Man’s repulsors.

 

Bruce didn’t say anything else, and Steve took another look.  Oh.  “They look like octopus tentacles,” he murmured.  Bruce smiled, his hand hovering just at the edge of the device, so that the ends of the tentacles brushed his hand every time they swung outwards to their full length.  “Are they run on electricity?” Steve asked, intrigued.

 

Bruce shrugged.  “Not always,” he answered.  “They can be run on motors, or wind, or magnets,” he explained.  “Tony runs a lot of his off of arc reactor technology.”  He gestured at the spinning, twisting, dancing world around them.

 

Steve took another look around, seeing the sculptures in a new light.  If they were run off of arc reactor technology, then of course Tony couldn’t risk exposing them to the general public.  There were enough people who went after the ones in his suit and in his chest.  If the military, or even SHIELD, knew that he had a bunch of miniaturized reactors lying around, there would be no end to them trying to get their hands on it.

 

Still, it was really such a pity.  Steve had meant it when he’d said that they were beautiful.  He bit his lower lip.  “Do you think he’d make one for me? If I asked?” he wondered.

 

Bruce looked up at him fondly.  “I think that maybe, he already has,” he murmured back.  He patted Steve briefly on the shoulder, then took his leave, slipping out as quietly as he’d arrived and leaving a thoughtful Steve behind, surrounded by the most beautiful artwork he’d ever seen.  And it _was_ artwork, no matter what else Tony might have to say about it.  Nothing this beautiful could be called anything less.

 

By this point, Steve had all but forgotten his original purpose in coming down here.  Carefully, so as to not break the soothing rhythm, he wandered the perimeter of the room, taking in all the wondrous devices that Tony had created.  He wondered how long Tony had been building these.  Since childhood?  MIT? Before Iron Man? After?  He didn’t know, and he realized that he wanted to.  He wanted to know more about this part of Tony’s life, about what drove him to create such beautiful things and then hide them away.  Surely he could build some with motors instead of advanced reactor technology?  He wanted to watch him work, see those strong, callused hands handle small tools and even smaller parts, to watch him build something beautiful out of scraps of metal.

 

Some of the sculptures, the ones with color, shades of red and silver and gold and black, he suspected had been built with pieces of damaged armors, remnants from the harsher parts of Tony’s life crafted into something delicately lovely.

 

When he finally managed to leave the room behind, he found himself already yearning to return, to surround himself with the amazing things he’d found.  Next time, he promised himself silently, he’d bring a sketchpad and some drawing mediums with him.

 

On his way up to the common room – it would be dinnertime soon – Steve passed by Tony’s lab.  He paused, turning to stare thoughtfully at the closed door.  He could see Tony inside, sitting at one of the lab benches, his fingers gentle but firm as he examined one of Clint’s arrowheads, his mouth moving as he talked to his bots or JARVIS, or even possibly just himself.  In front of him, an expanded view of one of Clint’s arrows rotated slowly.

 

Steve paused for another moment, hesitating, but then straightened his spine and turned on his heel, walking determinedly towards the lab and the man sitting within.  Quickly, he punched in his access code, surprised when it actually worked.  He had thought that maybe Tony was giving them fake codes or something, just to see what they’d do, but it appeared that he’d been genuine when he’d given them to each of the Avengers.

 

To his surprise, Tony didn’t have his music cranked up to deafening volumes.  Instead, the music seemed to be more instrumental, orchestral.  Steve hadn’t known that Tony even knew what orchestral music was, much less imagined that he’d listened to it.

 

“Bruce, you’ve got steady hands.  Come here and give me a hand with this, would you?” Tony asked without looking up, which answered Steve’s question.  The music wasn’t for Tony, but for Bruce.  Steve could picture Bruce enjoying music that had no words to get in the way.

 

Grinning, he wandered over until he was standing next to Tony, his hands reaching out to accept the tiny arrow head.  Tony froze, his head bowed, and Steve waited patiently.  There was a loud sigh, and Tony tipped his head back, blinking up at him.  “You’re not Bruce,” he said at last.

 

Steve grinned wider. “Nope,” he agreed.

 

“What did I do?” Tony asked next, something akin to panic starting to show on his face.  “I didn’t miss a team meeting, or a call to assemble, right? I mean, JARVIS is supposed to alert me when that kind of shit happens, because I can’t be expected to remember it all.  JARVIS, you’re still working, right?  Did I get an invite to some team bonding thing?”

 

 _“There is nothing listed on your schedule until the board meeting for Stark Industries tomorrow afternoon at three,”_ the AI replied succinctly. _“And might I remind you, sir, that Miss Potts has ordered you to attend this meeting under threat of death. And tears. Lots of tears.”_

Tony grimaced, looking resigned.  “Yeah, all right.  Set the alarm for like one-thirty.  That should give me time to finish up and get ready.  Because I am not dealing with Pep’s tears.  Nope, nuh uh, no way,” he muttered.  Then he glared up at Steve, visibly pulling himself back on track.  “So  if I’m not in trouble – am I in trouble? – then what the hell are you doing here, Rogers?” he bit out.

 

The smile slipped from Steve’s face, Tony’s words making him flinch backwards as he reviewed their past history together.  He had thought they were getting along better these days, their arguments growing less frequent and less volatile.  Being in close living quarters seemed to be helping, rather than hindering.  But perhaps he had just been reading things wrong? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

 

“I was just heading up to the common floor, and thought I’d ask you to join us,” he answered quietly, his tone subdued.  He looked down at the arrowhead in his grip, turning it over and over in his hands.  “I didn’t mean to intrude.  I’ll just go now,” he murmured, holding out the arrowhead for Tony to take.  Then he grimaced, remembering that Tony didn’t like to be handed things, and set it carefully on the table instead before turning on his heel and heading for the door.  It was obvious he wasn’t welcome here.

 

There was movement behind him before Tony called out, “Rogers.  Steve.  Wait.”  He stopped moving, keeping his back towards the other man as he waited for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say.  “You have steady hands, right?” Tony asked after a moment.  “I need you to hold this for me so I can get in there,” he murmured, a soft clack indicating that he’d picked up the tip of Barton’s arrow again.

 

Steve turned around, recognizing Tony’s words for what they were; a peace offering, and the closest thing to an apology that he was likely to get from the other man.  Tentatively, he moved back to the table and held out his hands.  Tony set the arrowhead in it.  “Just hold it up, and at a slight angle.  I need to get in here, and the clamps aren’t doing the job,” he murmured, callused hands arranging Steve’s broader ones until he was satisfied.

 

With a pleased hum, Tony dug inside the small arrow tip with a tool that looked like a cross between a screwdriver and a lockpick.  Steve could hear it humming faintly, and realized that it probably had an electrical charge.  Occasionally, a brief tingle would travel up his fingers, probably from Tony messing around with the edges of the casing.  He watched curiously; he’d never seen Tony work on Clint’s arrows before. Did he make them all by hand?

 

As if he could read Steve’s thoughts, Tony muttered, “Barton’s an idiot.”  Dark eyes flickered up briefly and met Steve’s, and the other man gave him a wry smile.  “He’s supposed to test the new prototypes before taking them out on the field so I can adjust them.  Instead, the bird brain usually uses them on the fly, _in the middle of a battle_ , and then complains afterwards.”  His eyes dropped back to his work, and his mutterings devolved into indecipherable grumbles.  Steve found himself grinning, amused despite himself.

 

Steve held his tongue until Tony made a triumphant noise and sat back, gesturing for him to the put the arrow tip on the table.  As soon as Steve set it down, Tony was barking out orders.  “JARVIS, scan this and send the schematics to the replicators.  I want a dozen of them made and ready for Barton to play with tomorrow morning. If we’re lucky, there won’t be any villainous plots afoot and he’ll actually get to test them on the range, instead of from the top of a forty-story building.  Dummy, Butterfingers, clean this mess up,” he snapped without pausing for breath, “and for god’s sake, don’t touch the arrow head. Or the shafts.  Do you remember what happened last time you touched something I told you not to?” he demanded, glaring at the two bots.  They both gave sad trills, their claws drooping.  Tony was singularly unimpressed.  “That’s what I thought.  So let’s not repeat that.”

 

Pursing his lips, Tony turned to look up at Steve, raising an eyebrow.  “So, you said you came here for something.  What do you need, Cap?” he asked, waiting impatiently, his fingers drumming an erratic beat against his upper thigh as he cocked his other hand on his hip.

 

Steve knew he should say something about dragging the man out of the lab to get some actual food, or tell him that movie night was beginning soon, or maybe even tell him that he was having trouble with his Stark Phone again and needed Tony’s help.  But instead, what came out was, “I saw the room with all the moving sculptures!”

 

He flushed in mortification as the confession spilled out of his treacherous mouth.  Tony froze for a moment, his face twisting oddly as if it couldn’t decide which emotion to settle on.  Eventually, the man just gave a quiet sigh, his shoulders slumping a bit.  “And?” he asked, his voice carefully nonchalant, both hands tucked into his pockets now as he looked anywhere but at Steve.

 

“They’re amazing,” Steve admitted, “I’ve never seen anything like them.”  He bit back the rest of the words that he wanted to say; beautiful, priceless, works of art. He was pretty sure Tony wouldn’t appreciate any of them, even if they were true.

 

Tony was looking at him strangely now, and Steve had the sinking feeling that he’d said something wrong.  Again.  “If you say so, Cap,” the genius shrugged after a moment.

 

Steve narrowed his eyes.  “They really are,” he insisted.  “They’re amazing, Tony.”  He might’ve been imagining Tony’s reaction, but he was pretty sure the other man was actually blushing.

 

“Thanks,” Tony mumbled quickly, still watching him warily.  There was a discrete ping, and Tony grinned, hard and sharp.  “And that’s my cue,” he said.  “Time to get back to work.  If there’s not anything else, Cap?” he asked, one eyebrow arched impatiently.

 

Steve took a step back, his hands coming up in an automatic peace-making gesture.  “Ah, no,” he said, shaking his head.  “Just…will you be up later? It’s Tuesday.”  Tuesday was the only day of the week that all of the Avengers had off, unless someone was away on an extended op, or an emergency cropped up at SI or something.  Steve wasn’t sure why Pepper had given Tony Tuesdays off, of all days, but she had said something about important meetings never happening on Tuesdays.  Steve had just accepted it at face value and spoken to Director Fury, who had agreed to give Clint and Natasha that day off as well, barring their being out of the country.  Bruce worked and lived here, so he had his own schedule, and Steve helped SHIELD out on a need-based schedule, so he could pick the days he worked.  Thor, being Thor, had accepted the schedule wholeheartedly, and nobody could refuse the god when he insisted that Tuesdays were to be a day of bonding between shield brothers.

 

Tony was already sauntering back over to one of the tables.  This one held what appeared to Steve to be a bunch of scrap, but he was sure that Tony was probably building a time machine or a teleportation device or something equally amazing and impossible.  “Uh huh,” Tony muttered. “Yeah, I’ll be up.  JARVIS?”

 

 _“I will set an alarm, Captain,”_ the AI addressed Steve directly, ignoring Tony’s noise of outrage at being ignored.  _“Will five thirty be sufficient?”_

 

Steve smiled up at the ceiling, needing somewhere to focus his attention when he spoke to JARVIS.  “Yeah, that’ll be great, JARVIS,” he replied gratefully.  “Thank you.”

 

 _“It is my pleasure, Captain,”_ JARVIS reassured him.

 

Reluctant to leave, but not having anything else to say, Steve turned around and left the lab, the sound of Tony scolding Dummy echoing behind him.  Tiredly, he slumped into the elevator, pressing the button that would take him directly to his floor.  He would join the others shortly – they would sometimes meet up there to play games before dinner and a movie – but right now, he just wanted to have a few minutes to himself, to sort himself out a bit before he had to put up with Clint’s snark and Natasha’s harsh encouragement or Bruce’s careful hesitancy.

 

Stumbling into his living room, Steve rubbed his face briskly with his palms, releasing a long, frustrated sigh and cursing his inability to talk to Tony.  It was easier to talk to _Natasha_ , for crying out loud, and his history with women wasn’t exactly smooth sailing.  Outside of Peggy, it had been awkward and uncomfortable and just plain embarrassing most of the time.

 

Straightening up, a flash of red caught his eye, and Steve found himself staring at the decoration displayed prominently over the fireplace.  Why he had a fireplace, he had no idea, but Tony had apparently thought it would be a grand idea to put one on everybody’s floor.  Steve hadn’t protested, and while JARVIS kept their living quarters at comfortable temperatures, Steve rather suspected that he’d have more of an appreciation for the hearth once winter rolled around.  He absolutely despised the cold.

 

Hanging above the fireplace was a replica of Steve’s shield.  The familiar curves and lines made Steve balk every time he saw it, even though he knew that his shield was right where he’d left it, next to his bed.  Now, though, he narrowed his eyes at it, hesitating for just a moment before striding forward to take a closer look.  He’d always avoided it, not caring much for the reminder that to the rest of his team, he was just Captain America, not Steve Rogers.  He didn’t feel like that quite so much anymore, but he still avoided looking at the display more than necessary.

 

Now, though, Bruce’s words echoed back to him.   _“I think that maybe, he already has.”_

Standing right in front of it, Steve could see the details that he’d ignored before.  Rather than being a solid circle of steel – or whatever it was that Tony used – it was instead made of several layers.  There were five layers in total.  Four circles, one on top of the other, and a silver star up top.  There was a minimal gap between them, nearly unnoticeable, and Steve found his fingers skimming along the shield, searching for a button or a switch or something similar.

 

When his fingers skimmed across the lower left corner of the shield, he felt a small piece give.  Almost immediately, the shield came to life.  Steve retreated quickly, staring at it.  At first, it seemed like the four circular pieces were just spinning, alternating directions for each layer.  But Steve couldn’t possibly be imagining the way that the shield had lit up, a soft silvery glow seeming to lift off of its surface.  Moving closer again, he realized that what he had assumed were solid pieces of metal were actually made up of dozens of smaller wires, which allowed the glow from lights dotted along the back to shine through the miniscule gaps.

 

Steve could pick out the low buzz of electricity under the gentle hum of the device as it moved, and realized that he was too close to get the whole effect.  Backing away again, he retreated to the far side of the living room, his breath catching as the shield shifted, seeming to change shape right before his eyes.

 

The star had split into several interlocking blades, and as Steve watched, mesmerized, they formed a familiar design – the letter A that was displayed on the side of the Avengers Tower.  He found himself grinning widely as he stared, as the links closed back up, forming the star again.  It was fantastic to watch, and Steve just stood there for several long moments.

 

 _“Captain Rogers, sir?”_ JARVIS’s tentative question eventually cut through the haze that Steve had found himself in, and the soldier looked up towards the ceiling.

 

“Uh, yes, JARVIS?” he asked, blinking.  Then he caught sight of the clock over the kitchen doorway and grimaced; five thirty, time for dinner.  Tony should be heading up, too, if JARVIS could coax him into leaving the lab.

 

 The AI paused for a moment, then asked gently, _“Are you all right, Captain?”_   He sounded concerned, and Steve frowned lightly, confused.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered.  “Is everything okay?”

 

 _“Everything is fine, Captain,”_ JARVIS reassured him promptly.  _“Will you be joining the others for dinner?”_

 

Steve nodded.  “Yeah, I’ll be down in a minute,” he said. He paused for a moment.  “Uh, JARVIS?” he asked.

 

 _“Yes, Captain,”_ the AI replied, sounding amused now.

 

Steve felt himself blushing, but gestured towards the shield, which was still spinning, the star unraveling into the symbol for the Avengers and then falling back into place again, as blatant a promise as anything he’d ever seen.  He might be Captain America, but he was also Steve Rogers, an Avenger.  He had a team.  “How…how do I stop it?” he asked reluctantly.  He supposed he could try to get his hand back there, but that didn’t seem like a good idea while it was moving.  It would be just his luck that he’d get a finger caught between two metal blades or something equally painful and embarrassing.

 

 _“Ah,”_ JARVIS said.  _“Allow me.”_   A moment later, the shield went back to being inanimate with a gentle clicking noise as pieces locked back into place.  The lights were shut off, leaving the sculpture looking like a replica of Steve’s shield once again.  _“It is set on a timer, Captain,”_ JARVIS explained once it had stopped moving.  _“Sir can change the duration of activity if you would prefer.”_

 

Steve shook his head, turning his back on the sculpture and heading out to join his teammates.  “It’s fine just like it is, JARVIS.”  Perhaps he’d ask Bruce if he had one in his rooms, too.  He wondered if Bruce would mind if he visited the room again.

 

Somehow, he didn’t think he’d mind at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Kinetic sculptures are actually quite fascinating, and I wouldn't put it past Tony Stark to design ones that shouldn't be possible. I highly encourage you to look them up, it'll give you a much better idea of what they are.


End file.
